


A Sense of Absence

by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre



Series: Where no man has gone before [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e23 Skin of Evil, Episode: s02e09 The Measure of a Man, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre/pseuds/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre
Summary: Data stands alone in his quarters, and thinks.It is illogical for his efficiency to be negatively affected by death.It has never occurred before.And yet-
Relationships: Data & Geordi La Forge, Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Where no man has gone before [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012116
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	A Sense of Absence

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't immediately love Tasha, but I did love her and Data. I wanted to take a look at how her death affected Data, and also a bit of origin for that hologram of Tasha we see in 'The Court Martial'
> 
> Enjoy

Data stands alone in his quarters, and thinks. 

It is not a state of being he is unaccustomed to, but as an android he is capable of multi-tasking extremely efficiently, and therefore it is not a regular part of his schedule to concentrate on one thing solely. 

It is not as though he has no other duties to attend to either. Doctor Crusher had instructed all of the officers to ‘take it easy’, but since Data is incapable of feeling, it is illogical for his efficiency to be negatively affected by death.

It has never occurred before.

And yet-

For some reason, Data does not  _ want _ to move. Again, an illogical statement, because he is incapable of desire, but it appears to fit his current situation. Most curious.

He obeys the compulsion, unused to it and fascinated by it. He wonders how long he will desire to stand motionless for, even as a smaller part of his mind calculates whether his duties will be negatively affected by this moment of immovability. Or how long it will be before such a deficiency occurs.

Data attempts to isolate the reason for his behaviour, and cannot locate the disturbance. Unperturbed, he remains still for approximately 6 hours, 47 minutes, 50.9142 seconds.

He moves only when his internal clock informs him that his shift is about to begin, although it is oddly difficult to step away from his position, and as a result he arrives 2.1572 seconds late to the bridge. It is unlikely that anyone else will notice this small deviation from his programming, and therefore Data does not think it is an issue.

He slides into his seat easily, turning to see that Commander Riker is also on the bridge, and that the man appears unusually fatigued. He has dark circles underneath his eyes that are on average 32% darker than the rest of his skin, and there is an odd red quality to his eyes, undetectable by regular human vision but varying in shade to his normal eyeball colour to the superhuman vision that Data possesses.

“Did you sleep well?” he inquires, as has been inquired of him on occasion. His programming appears to indicate that this is a logical question to ask, despite the fact that his observation of Commander Riker’s dark circles leads to the conclusion that the human has not in actuality slept ‘well’.

“Yes Data, thank you,” Commander Riker smiles faintly, and Data tilts his head slightly in confusion. It is an incorrect statement.

He is about to point this out when he sees Counsellor Troi look at him and gently move her head from left to right. She does not wish him to point out the lie.

He does not understand why Commander Riker has lied, but there is no reason for him to act against Counsellor Troi’s wishes.

He turns to his work and begins his usual duties. There is nobody to inquire after his state of being, despite the fact that he would not have lied had they asked him how his evening was.

There is an odd sensation in his chest; a slight untightening as he is able to begin his shift without any question as to his own unusual behaviour. Data does not understand why his airflow appears to have been restricted, but there is no further issue, and so he accepts and ignores it.

* * *

Data stands in front of Captain Picard’s desk, and waits for him to address Data.

“Ah, Data, good to see you,” he smiles, and Data blinks.

“Thank you captain,” he replies, choosing not to express to the captain that they have seen each other a mere 4 hours, 16 minutes and 3.1295 seconds ago.

“Take a seat,” the captain says, and Data obliges, looking across at his superior officer for the reason he is present.

“I wanted to- see how you were doing,” Captain Picard says with a smile, hesitation present in his tone, indicating that for some reason he is nervous or unsure about his course of action.

“I am fully functional,” Data responds accurately.

Captain Picard sighs.

“Yes Data, but are you feeling alright?” he asks, and Data does not understand the purpose of the question.

“I am incapable of emotion,” he says, and cannot name the strange twist that appears alongside the Captain’s normal smile. Perhaps it is humour?

“Yes, but you were friends with Tasha, weren’t you?” he says, and Data does not reply for a moment. In fact, he finds himself oddly incapable of response, which is an unusual position for him.

“It’s alright, Data,” the captain smiles, and Data furrows his brow.

“Of course it is alright. Why would it not be?” he inquires, and Picard sighs.

“Never mind,” he says, looking tired, as Commander Riker had as well that morning.

“Perhaps you require sleep, captain?” Data suggests, and that odd expression spreads itself across Captain Picard’s face again.

“Thank you Data. You may go now,” he dismisses Data, and the android stands up.

“Yes sir,” he says, and leaves.

* * *

Data stands in holodeck 3, and looks upon the image of Lieutenant Tasha Yar.

She smiles at him, just as the real Tasha Yar always did, and is identical in every manner apart from the fact that she is a hologram and thus extremely different to the real person. 

Data is fully cognisant of this fact. Therefore, it does not matter to him that her short blonde hair shifts in the wind, nor that he can recall the sensation of her lips against his own, nor that the hologram will never extend her smile by 4.492% upon seeing him.

He replays the memory of her final words to him, and her mistaken conviction that he is somehow ‘more human’ than any of the crew, despite the fact that the majority of the crew are in fact human, and therefore clearly more human than he can ever be.

There is a strange constriction to his breath at the thought, and he finds that the sensation is not pleasant. He blinks, and Tasha is still standing there, flickering and weak, and he wonders if it would be human of him to desire a memento of her.

He thinks it would be. 

He programs a personal hologram to show her image smiling at him, free of the words of Tasha’s final message, and slips it into his pocket. Data illogically does not wish others to see it, nor would it be practical to spend any more time on the holodeck.

“Computer, end program,” he says out loud, and he is alone in the black room.

He leaves Tasha there, and also carries her in his pocket.

She is not really there.

* * *

Data stands alone in his room once more.

It has been 3 days since Tasha Yar’s death. More precisely, it has been 76 hours, 28 minutes and 30.8576 seconds since Tasha Yar ceased to draw breath, and Data has now spent three nights standing in the centre of his quarters without activity.

His efficiency has suffered 40% due to his inoperation for the hours that he is not on shift. His regular schedule involves a minimum of 5 hours work during the night time hours, and although it has little impact on the ship’s running as a whole, Data is aware that for every night of inoperability, he compounds the problem, and soon it may become noticeable.

He is unable to calculate a specific time frame because he does not have the data of the schedule of every crewmate. He considers the benefits of learning such a thing, and comes to the conclusion that the information would be extremely large, problematic to download, and of insignificant benefit.

There is a knock at his door.

He moves his head; the first motion made since entry into his room approximately 4 hours, 16 minutes and 23.41 seconds previously. 

“Come in,” he says, calculating the odds of which person it is likely to be.

Geordi walks into the room, and Data smiles automatically at the sight of him. (The odds of it being Geordi were 97%, due to a combination of Geordi’s schedule, frequency of visits to Data’s room, and the faint mechanical whirring of Geordi’s visor from outside the door).

“Data? What are you doing?” Geordi asks, his eyebrows creased towards the centre of his forehead, and Data tilts his head again.

“I am standing,” he says, and Geordi sighs.

“Yes, but why are you standing? What is your- reason for doing it?” he asks, clarifying his question, and Data nods as he understands.

“I am standing because I desire to,” he states.

Geordi nods slowly. 

“Oo-kay….” he trails off. “Why do you ‘desire’ to stand in the middle of your room for no reason?” 

Data looks at Geordi. 

“I do not know,”

Geordi looks back.

“Are you malfunctioning, Data?” he asks, and Data considers the possibility of it.

“I do not believe that this is the case. My sensors do not detect a malfunction, but it is not an impossibility,” he decides, and Geordi steps closer, placing a hand on Data’s arm.

“Do you want to sit down then?” the engineer asks, and Data purposefully raises his shoulders in a shrug. (He has been practicing).

“Got it…” Geordi says, sounding unsure.

“You do not sound sure,” Data informs him, and Geordi smiles. Data does not understand why, but it always pleases him to make humans smile, Geordi especially so, and he smiles back.

“Okay Data, why don’t you sit down then,” Geordi rephrases, and Data considers his desire to remain standing, and finds that Geordi’s presence reduces his desire to stand by-

-He cannot calculate the magnitude of the emotion. That is a strange discovery. He finds he is not- satisfied by it.

Data moves anyway, and sits down next to Geordi on the bed.

“Did you want to discuss something, Geordi?” he asks, and his friend places his hand on Data’s arm again. His hand is warm.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he says, and Data cocks his head.

“The captain inquired similarly,” he discloses, and Geordi smiles, the movement smaller than usual.

“Did he now,” he questions, but the tone indicates that the words are a statement not meant for answer. Data remains silent because it appears he is not meant to respond.

Geordi doesn’t say anything further for a moment or two, and soon Data can feel him stiffening slightly, and he wonders if this is what humans would call an ‘awkward silence’.

“Hey, what’s this?” Geordi asks suddenly, reaching out and picking up the crystal-like structure that rests on Data’s bedside shelf. He tilts it upside down, and turns on the personal hologram, and suddenly Tasha Yar stands between them, smiling up at Data like she always did in real life.

He has not yet turned it on. The sight surprises him, enough that he does not respond to Geordi, and instead smiles instinctively back at the small blonde form of his friend.

“Data?” Geordi asks softly, and Data jerks his head up to look at Geordi in surprise.

“Yes Geordi?” he says, and Geordi gives him an odd look, one that he locates as sympathy. He is unsure why Geordi has chosen the expression.

“Data you’re- you’re crying,” he says quietly, and Data’s eyes widen as he puts one robot hand on his cheek and feels a sensation of dampness.

“So I am,” he agrees, and blinks. Now that he is aware of it, he can feel another tear fall down from his other eye, and yet he does not understand why he is crying.

“She meant a lot to all of us,” Geordi breathes out, and wraps his arms around Data, pulling him closer, and Data allows his body to be moved towards his friend, his head landing on Geordi’s shoulder.

He suddenly wants to inform Geordi about- about what Tasha had said never happened. He does not want to go against her words (but she is not there to feel negative emotion about what he says).

“Geordi,” he says suddenly, and feels more than hears the vibration of Geordi’s response.

“Data,” Geordi replies, and Data hesitates to give out information that Tasha did not want to be given out.

But he wants to.

“Tasha and I were intimate,” he says, words muffled by the soft fabric of his friend’s top, and Geordi breaths out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry Data,” Geordi swallows, and Data feels the strength of Geordi’s pull increase. It is strange, this form of comfort, because Data is an android and does not need comfort. He cannot feel emotion, therefore there is no logic in comforting him.

There is no logic in crying either though. And apparently that is something he is doing.

He cannot think of the correct way to respond to Geordi’s sorrow, because Tasha’s death is not his fault, and neither is Data sorry for the nights he spent with Tasha, so Data says nothing, and instead closes his eyes to the warmth of his best friend.

He can no longer see the hologram of Tasha, but he is not concerned by that. The hologram is not real.

Geordi is.  
  
  



End file.
